HEY, PEOPLE who want to open bars. You don’t need to call your establishment a “social club” or “whiskey happening” or a “gathering of gins” or whatever. You can just call it a bar. Everyone is still onboard with bars. I haven’t talked to anyone who was like, “I wish there was a place I could go buy alcohol and shout clipped sentences over some overly loud Johnny Cash songs that some dude is hoping you noticed that he put on the jukebox, but I hate homonyms.”
I know it’s fun to come up with weird names for shit. I would be a terrible father, but I still want to have kids so I can name them Shaquille. All of them. I understand the desire, but this whimsical bar-naming trend is starting to get out of hand. It’s not that I dislike these places, either! Some of my favorite places to get ham-sandwiched have silly-ass names. The White Owl Social Club is outstanding. It’s got cheap drinks, there’s a dude who works there who looks like if Andrew WK was a wolfman, and it has a super fucking dope outdoor seating where you can get drinks and look at the stars and say shit that sounds super philosophical ‘cuz you’re smashed, but in reality is just “stars, though, huh?” But the White Owl Social Club doesn’t sound like that place—it sounds like a paperback book about a bunch of plucky Connecticut businesswomen who get together once a week to solve crimes BUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE OF THEIR OWN IS SUSPECTED AND IT GOES WAY DEEPER THAN EVEN CAROL THOUGHT AND WE ALL KNOW HOW PARANOID CAROL IS, GIVE IT A REST CAROL, YOU’LL WORRY YOURSELF INTO AN EARLY GRAVE.
You know what name I like? The Whiskey Soda Lounge. You know exactly what you’re walking into. You don’t even order drinks, you just walk up to the bar and say, “I could only be here for one thing,” and you have your beverage. Plus, Whiskey Soda Lounge kind of sounds like the name of a Japanese rockabilly band, and that’s fun for me.
From here on out let’s stop calling anything a speakeasy, too. I don’t want to go to a speakeasy, and sit there and listen to a dude who NEEDS me to know he loves the Rat Pack a whole bunch or how underrated Lillian Gish is.
This is why I smoke weed. It never has stupid names.
The part where you list 20-30 fictitiously funny bar names must’ve accidentally gotten clipped before saving. Please re-do?
^^agree. Also agree with Ian that the aforementioned names (and many others) are lame twee hipster bullshit designed to attract other twerps. C’est la vie
RIP Joe’s Cellar
Better this week ian. You stayed on track of the funny (even though it got away from you). Remember that just because something bothers you and you yell about it you also must chase it down with your medieval jester flute and play a funny little tune while skipping gaily. Making me laugh you must never forget to do.
And stay away from those who would advise you to make lists. They, like nougat candies, are not your friends.
But i love the Rat Pack,… and so do you!
Whaddaya got against lists, “I’mright”? WHAT IF SCHINDLER HAD FELT THAT WAY?
Todd…oohfah
“Dig a Pony” is the worst name not just for a bar, but for anything. But I’ve had some pleasant evenings there.
Lillian Gish IS underrated! And anything to the contrary is pure flapdoodle!! Flapdoodle, I say!
Flapdoodle is a good bar.
‘Dig a Pony’ IS a great song, however. Those guys were practically flawless from ’66 on…
Ah, so that earlier comment finally showed up. WTF.
This week I’m embarrassed because I’m the guy who plays Johnny Cash so loud. Also, I was a plucky Connecticut businesswoman before the surgery. Anyway, my wife and I thought this one was so funny that we read it to the neighbors until they locked themselves indoors with their overrated Rat Pack movies. Stay high, Ian, you’re the best!